


The Years Go On

by kutucababa



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 09:51:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1894575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kutucababa/pseuds/kutucababa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>America loves to celebrate himself. He's not quick to pick up on other people's feelings. In fact, it takes him 238 years and a highly dissatisfying birthday of his own to realize something big he's been missing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Years Go On

**Author's Note:**

> Since I made this account, I've felt obligated to just post something, already, but none of my old works seemed like the right thing to start out with. So, since it's the 4th of July, I whipped up a little story (the premise of which has probably been done to death already, sorry). Hope you enjoy! It is partly inspired by the song Still Fighting It by Ben Folds, especially the line "You're so much like me... I'm sorry." Don't take it too seriously, please, it's my first piece of writing I've ever made public! Thanks for reading my long notes!

It was all set. I stepped back to admire my work.  My house looked ready to host one of Gatsby's parties. It was pretty rockin. Massive, bright, eccentric, everything my parties always were... Every year. Always.

This was the first year I wasn't feelin it. Wasn't feelin my own birthday.

I started to panic. I frantically flipped through my contacts until I found Japan's. My best friend would know what to do. "Japan, bro, something's wrong with me!!!"

"Herro? America, is that you? What's the matter?" came the muffled response.

"Dude, I think I'm sick. My birthday is tomorrow and, you know me, I'm usually pre-partying for at least a few days. But this year? I could care less. I even remembered Canada Day, for crying out loud. This is just whack, man..." I sighed deeply into the phone, fogging up the screen.

"I am not feering so 'whack' at the moment, either... As you know, I frew a rong time to be here for your party, and I am experiencing some jet rag. Do you mind if I carr you back?" Japan said slowly. I hadn't even noticed the fatigue in his voice until then.

"Yeah, yeah, sure, uh... I guess I just gotta think on this one, huh? New stuff for me. Okay, bye."

"See you tomorrow."

"Yeah." I hung up and flopped down on my patriotic-colored-confetti-strewn couch and pushed my cheeks up with my hands. What was different this year? What had caused this change of paradigm? Whatever it was, it sure as heck flipped things upside-down for me. Rather than staying up late celebrating myself before the rest of the America-praising festivities, I shoved enough streamers aside to lay in my bed and ponder on this in somber silence. Unaccustomed to such an extensive period of serious thought, I fell asleep.

-

There are people in my house. Is there a person in my room? I shoot up in bed and reach for my glasses, and my outreached hand tangles in streamers.

Oh yeah. It's my birthday. "He is awake!" 

"Oh, finally!"

"Hey, America, are you feering better? Hong Kong and China are here with the food and fireworks." I scratch my head and try to flatten my cowlick, but it stays, as always.

"I'm better now... I had this deep one-on-one with myself last night for, like, no reason, I don't know, haha, and I just... Do you guys really think I should still do this big party? I'm getting kinda sick of it. It just feels like it's the same every year, like something is missing."

"Maybe you're getting used to the level of partying you've been doing. Maybe if you amp it up, you'll feel better?" Hong Kong suggests, thick brows furrowing.

"Aiyah, during the Opium War, I remember the same amount never feeling like enough. Always needed more, you know? It was devastating. Maybe partying is your opium?" China shrugs. "Just a thought."

"No, no, guys, that's not it. I think it's just too much party, not enough reason for it?" I can't find the words.

"America, you rearry aren't yourserf. I am going to make you some tea." Japan leaves, China and Hong Kong in tow.

And it hits me. Hong Kong's eyebrows. The Opium War. The mention of tea. I'm feeling like this partying is so childish, like I am acting so vain because...

I hear people running up the stairs as I scream until my lungs hurt. All four of us are panting as my friends reach my door. "America?!?" Japan gasps. "What happened?"

"I'M BECOMING HIM. It's happening, and oh God, I need something harder than tea, I need a bigger party than this. I just... Forget everything I said. Tonight's gonna rock. God Bless 'Murica." I leap out of bed and throw on a teeshirt bearing my own flag.

-

The party winds up being a blast (literally. Hong really killed it on the fireworks). I almost make it the whole night without thinking of my moment of panic that morning, until the last guest leaves. It is 1:00 AM. France is driving away. He screams out the window, "Who needs that frog, anyway? Happy birthday, America!"

Firework smoke swirls around me as he leaves. I feel like I am going to fall down.

It's not that I regret gaining my independence. Of course not. Even if I did, I'd feel guilty as heck about it. People died making me a country. But in 238 years, there was bound to be a day where the part of me that would always be his colony would resurface. In 238 years, how had I been so thick, how had I never noticed that he never came around to celebrate my birthday, when the entire figurative 'rest of the world' did? For the first time in 238 years, I felt a glimpse of what he felt, and I missed him.  I imagine what he must think of all this. "Gluttonous," he'd say, I bet. I bet he'd hate it all. Every Independence Day really does kind of reopen an old wound for him.

I am so thick.

I am staring at my phone, a lump in my throat. Is now the right time to call, after all that time? What will I say? Sorry? No, I don't know. I set my phone down and look up at the hazy sky. It smells like sulfur and charcoal and summer. The sun is down and it is still hot. It's the kind of night that usually makes me proud to tears that this is the country I represent. No, instead, I'm crying because of some jerkface I left two centuries ago so people could be free on nights like this, and I'm looking down the street, and I'm laughing out loud at myself. Because I think I see him.

He gets closer. I light a sparkler and let the brightness burn my eyes instead of looking at him. I should stop further damaging my eyes, really, they're already playing tricks on me, but whenever I glance out of the corner of my eye to see if his totally-imagined-not-real figure is there, it still is. I finally turn and nearly drop the sparkler because he's here, for real, about a foot away, staring at my sparkler. He squats next to me, and shifts his weight onto his heels so he can look up. "It's very beautiful... A lot you have going on here tonight, yeah? Sorry for dropping by uninvited, I just..." I look at him. "I just... I'm sorry, I don't know what's come over me, I've just felt this need to see you today since I woke this morning." He runs a hand through his hair. "I know we've 'made amends' of sorts, of course, it's been so long, who couldn't by now? I get the sense, though, that things can't ever be the same between us. And I think you ought to know..." This is hard for him to say. I can tell. I know him well enough to be able to see when he's pushing himself to be nice. "America, I'm always going to be bitter about the fact that you broke away. I'm a bitter man, cross with many people for many things. That said, I am... I am proud of you. What you've done, what you've become. I miss you terribly. But I wouldn't try to take you back as a colony if you offered yourself, after seeing all the wonders you'd do for the world on your own." He elbows me. "Yank."

I grin and elbow back. "Limey." No one speaks for a minute. No one moves. We listen to the fireworks. I suddenly throw my arms around him. "Thanks, England. It means a lot."

"Don't you think for a moment that this is 'sorry.'"

I no longer feel like anything is missing.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry about the awful, awkward paragraph separations. I typed this from my phone and I'm not sure how to work indentations and things yet! Hopefully the next thing I post will be better.


End file.
